Potential of Belief
by silver-kin
Summary: If possible, aren't there other ways to feel again? Other than killing? When thrown into the care of an unwilling Vexen, Demyx wonders if there might be another option. No pairing.


I wrote this a few months ago and I only got around to uploading recently. Let me tell you something about this fic, 'kay?

To tell you the truth, it started with me trying to come up with a Xaldin fic, which turned into this other fic I was going to write, which turned into this. And while this was being written, the words just came out in a flow and I kept writing and writing and then, it was done. Just like that. And things like that don't happen to me very often, you know?

So, to respect that bout of strange-ness, I tried to keep this story to its original draft as much as possible. I hope you enjoy it.

Disclaimer: Kingdom Hearts is the property of Square Enix and Disney.

**Potential of Belief**

Life, he believes, is filled with sound. At every moment in life, there is sure to be sound, be it the slightest creaks of wooden floorboards which could go completely unnoticed, or the loudest, most demanding voice of a person. Even in a world as empty as their world has its share of sounds, though the low rumble announcing the arrival of yet another wave of darkness is hardly pleasant.

But that's what life is all about. Life has the most enjoyable and also the much unwelcome. It's just the way it is; two opposing aspects keep the world in an acceptably balanced way – sort of. Until the darkness came and started devouring all the hearts and wreaked havoc, throwing everything that had been so perfectly harmonized completely off balance.

That's not the point, though. The point is that life is, in every way imaginable, a time of sounds. Since the day a soul is breathed into a body until death returns to reclaim the gift, there will never be a time of complete silence. Sound is the second definition of life. Sound is the _epitome_ of life.

When Demyx finally decides to come out and share his opinion with Vexen, the scientist only sneers and says, "Try again."

Flabbergasted, or at least, he thinks he's flabbergasted, he nearly trips over his own feet as he scrambles to the other side of the room where the other Nobody is standing. "What do you mean by, 'try again'?"

With a steady confidence that only comes after years of doing it, one hand holds a test tube in place as the other opens a drawer and starts rummaging – in a unique, completely _Vexen_ way – through its contents. "What could you possibly think I mean?"

"But, but," he protests, "It's the perfect solution. No one would have to go around risking their lives to search for hearts. All we need is some music."

A pen is found and placed on the table before the rummaging resumes. "That is hardly a 'perfect solution.' It doesn't even come close to a logical theory to begin with. Your hypothesis is flawed, unbelievably long-winded and utterly irrational."

"It is not," he says through clenched teeth, bristling at the implication of music as irrational. "It's a good theory, one that should at least be taken into consideration."

"Really now? I must say, I find a small margin of difficulty in digesting that." Vexen pulls out a few pieces of paper, blank save for the neat, hand-drawn lines stretching horizontally across the pages, and carefully lays them out on the table. The free hand then moves to push the open drawer back into its former position.

"Yeah? Well, you have an uncooperative stomach."

Ignoring him, the scientist settles down on a stool and begins to write. Not wanting to admit defeat so easily, Demyx walks across the room where an unused stool stands and drags it back to the table before sitting on it, staring meaningfully at the offender, an act that has as much effect as sticking out his tongue would have.

Neat handwriting gradually increases on the earlier prepared and probably evenly spaced out lines as Vexen continues to write, glancing at the test tube in his right hand every now and then and muttering quietly to himself. Finally, when patience runs out and still no response is given, Demyx promptly places his hand on the paper currently in use, effectively preventing the other blonde from completing his task. His actions are rewarded with an annoyed scowl which he could do without, and attention, which is what he wants, at least until he receives a response. "Tell me why you don't think it'll work."

"Remove your hand." Vexen's voice is cold and hard.

He doesn't, instead issuing more force, just in case his hand is forcefully pushed aside. "Tell me why, first."

"Of course. Your demands are my topmost priorities." Without warning, a small blizzard spell is sent his way so cold that a breath's moment later, he snatches it away and begins to frantically rub his frozen hand, desperately hoping the numb feeling is only temporary. "I do not take orders from those beneath me."

Clutching his now rather immobile hand to his chest, Demyx glances at Vexen and catches the not too kindly amused expression on his face. If he didn't know better, he would protest being referred to as 'those beneath', but he's spent the last four days in Vexen's research room and even he learns from past mistakes.

Juts as the beginnings of warmth start to trickle into his fingers once more, the superior Nobody speaks. "For the sake of your pathetically limited comprehension abilities, I'll pick only one amongst the many blindingly obvious reasons as to why your solution is ridiculous. Something you can _understand_," he adds haughtily. "The reason is simply because it is."

"That's hardly an acceptable answer," he says in return, blowing lightly on his fingers.

"Music may well be an important part of your life, but its significance to others is as great as any other little thing in life. With or without sound, some people will still have the will to live. Music is not, for a fact, a part of everyone's hearts."

He frowns, happy that his fingers are still able tom move normally but not feeling all that pleased with the way the conversation is going. "There _is_ music in everyone's hearts. It's just a matter of finding it. Some people find it, some people don't; I found the music, you didn't."

"Music can't help us. It does not have what it takes to make a heart." Fingers close around the test tube in hand as he speaks, holding the apparatus as delicately as a person might hold a porcelain doll. "The heart is, if to be defined scientifically, a hollow, muscular organ that assists the body with respiration, amongst other things. From a different aspect, the heart is also considered the most important part of a person, functioning as the center of all human emotion."

"And should we accept this theory as the basics of a Nobody's existence, it thereby means that we cannot experience feelings of our own, only memories from the life we once had," he rolls his eyes, quoting the words he has come to know by heart due to the continuous drilling everyone else had seemed to feel he needed. "Yeah, yeah. I know. You guys have said it often enough."

Vexen regards him coolly, wearing hints of a long-suffering expression on his face. "If your amazingly redundant way of thinking has managed to grasp that concept, then where exactly is the problem here?"

"I'm not saying that music can be used to create a completely new heart, Vexen. What I'm saying is that we can use it to replace the hearts we've lost. Since music is something produced from the feelings of a person, it can be considered similar to a heart, which means we can use music to imitate a heart."

Laughter follows as Vexen waves his entire suggestion away, dismissing all the hard work with one arrogant flick of his hand. "That is, as of now, the most ridiculous thing I have ever heard. Picking up the formerly abandoned pen, the diminished sounds of pen scratching against paper cuts quietly through the air as Vexen resumes his writing.

Offended at easy dismissal, Demyx stares open-mouthed at the scientist. "It's not ridicu–"

"There are many other alternate possibilities out there, and they're all far more reasonable than the one you're suggesting," he says, not bothering to so much as grace him with an acknowledging look, or a nod, or even a pause in his writing. "Try again."

* * *

"'Try again,' he says. Like it's that simple," Demyx mutters darkly, frowning at the sight in front of him as he searched for the next card to play. "I bet he doesn't have the slightest idea as to how long it took to get my theory."

Luxord's voice is amused when he replies, "That certainly sounds like the kind of thing Vexen would say." The hand holding his cards is draped lazily over the side of the chair. "By the way, why are you trying so hard to come up with an acceptable theory anyway?"

"Vexen told me to! He said, on the first day Xemnas assigned me to him, that instead of wasting time, I might as well as do something _beneficial_," he replied indignantly. Luxord made a small 'hmm' sound in response, and he puts down a King and exchanges it for the Jack of Spades. "But you agree with me, right?"

"Agree with what?" the other blonde asked.

"With my theory. You think music would work, right?"

"Hardly. My opinions side with Vexen's on this one, I'm afraid." Picking two cards out from his hand, he adds them to the growing pile, revealing a pair of eights.

Demyx look up from the cards, surprised. "What? Why?"

Instead of answering immediately, he flicks a hand towards Demyx's cards, a gesture meant to hurry him. Only after Demyx absently discards a randomly picked card, not even bothering to think the choice through first – since he'll still end up losing anyway, he didn't see much of a point –, does Luxord reply. "It's simply too absurd to lead to any results. Music has absolutely no connection whatsoever to hearts."

"But what about all those people who say things like, 'true music comes from the heart' or, 'music is the way to express one's self?' Doesn't that count for anything?"

"Ah, but that, Demyx, only bears meaning to those who feel passionately for music. People like you," he adds, removing another card and drawing one from the neat stack next to the somewhat carelessly arranged card. "Music might mean a lot to a person who is very familiar with its many ways, but to the rest of us, it doesn't matter in the least bit. Granted, it's certainly nice to listen to, but truth be told, we couldn't care less about it."

Noticing the very few cards left in the other man's hands, Demyx fumbles with his for a while, trying to come up with some remarkable strategy to save himself with before deciding rather resignedly that it's probably already too late for it. "Well, you could always learn to appreciate music more. It's not all that difficult to do. You just have to listen."

"I believe you're missing the point. It's not that I do not know how to understand music, it's that I have no desire to learn." Luxord puts down two of the three cards in his hand. "Last card."

Placing a double on the pile, Demyx says, "That's just you. I'm sure there are other Nobodies out there who'd be willing to try out my theory." When Luxord gives a quiet laugh that is quickly suppressed, he frowns, determined to think of someone who might want to try. "Hey, do you think Xaldin might be interested?"

"I think you'd have better luck asking a Dusk," he replies, chuckling lightly.

He feels his mouth pull into a pout and he lets it. "The least you could do is encourage me, you know."

Luxord ignores the last remark, turning the last card in his hand and wearing a small grin on his face as he announces his victory. "Declare."

In response to the declaration, Demyx sighs and drops the remainder of his card onto the pile in front of him, somewhat grateful that he hadn't agreed to bet anything earlier; when he found Luxord, the other Nobody had been so bored that he had agreed to play for nothing. The gambler gathers the cards and Demyx watches as he begins to expertly shuffle them, his movements smooth and practiced. "How come you always win? I don't think I've ever seen you lose at anything before."

"The answer to that question is very simple," Luxord tells him, not pausing in mid-shuffle as he spoke. "I believe in myself."

Demyx blinks once. "Huh?"

"When faith is strong, nothing is impossible." When his only response is a blanked stare, he elaborates. "Because I believe in myself, I'm confident that victory in any game will be in my hands, regardless of the stakes."

Tapping a finger on the table to a beat in the back of his mind, he says, the words coming out carefully slow, "So, you're saying that so long as you believe in yourself, you'll never lose at any game?"

"Not just at games, but everything else as well." Luxord deals out the cards, giving both of them seven cards each. He takes one card and puts in face-up in on the center of the table before exchanging it for one from his own hand. "Nothing is impossible if you believe in it enough." Silence follows and when Demyx makes no move, Luxord looks up at his opponent. "Demyx?" No response. "Demyx, it's your turn. Kindly make a move so that we may conti–"

"That's it!" he exclaims, cutting off anything else the gambler might have said. "That's it! Luxord, you're brilliant! Thank you!"

Before Luxord so much as opens his mouth to ask if the musician honestly believed him, Demyx has already run out of the room. Sighing, he gathers the cards on the table once more and shuffles them silently, listening to the rapidly fading footsteps as he contemplates the sudden departure of his partner; _now,_ who is he suppose to play with?

In his hurry, Demyx runs too fast, stops too late, and only realizes that he'll slam into the door when it hovers a millisecond away from his face. The sudden impact makes an unpleasantly loud sound and he cringes at the thought of Vexen hearing it, praying furiously that the other man is currently so intent on his work that his minds don't register it. Of course, his hopes are dashed when the door opens and the none-too-happy face of Vexen glares vehemently at him. "_What do you think you're doing?"_

Demyx swallows nervously, torn between apologizing profusely in hopes that the scientist will let the matter pass and skipping the apology to head straight to the point. As green eyes narrow dangerously, he hastily makes a decision and tries to explain. "Vexen, I'm _really_ sorry about that but I really, really, really have to tell you something."

If possible, his glare hardens and when Vexen speaks, his voice is a low hiss. "If it weren't for the fact that Xemnas placed you under my care and is probably expecting you to still exist by the end of this week, I would have put an end to my misery the day you stepped into my lab"

"Please, Vexen," he pleads. "It won't take long. I'll make it as quick as possible, I promise."

"You neophytes are not worth half the trouble you cause. I can't understand why Xemnas thinks there's some advantage in keeping you here." Shaking his head disgustedly, Vexen moves a little to the side to allow Demyx to come in. After that, he gives the door a light push and it closes with a soft click.

Upon walking over to the table in the middle of the room, Demyx takes note of the papers lying on it, apparently being currently in use. He shifts closer and reaches out for one, only o have his hand slapped away by an irritated blonde.

Sitting down at the table, Vexen fixes him an impatient look and says, "You may start telling me about whatever it is that simply could not wait that you had to crash into the door. As I'm sure you know, time does not wait."

"Right," Demyx nods. Collecting his scattered thoughts, he says, "I have a different solution to that question you asked a few days ago, and I thought you might want to know. Unless you don't want to know, but since I'm here already I might as well as tell you anyways, because–" At Vexen's look of annoyance, Demyx attempts to hurry and ends up stumbling over his next words; stupid, uncooperative tongue. He pauses, takes a deep breath and tries again. "I think the solution is to believe."

Vexen remains silent, wanting him to elaborate and expecting him to do it without being asked to. He taps the pen in his left hand against the table to an empty rhythm.

"Belief can make anything possible. If we believe in something hard enough, that something might become the truth. We'll think that something is real even if it's actually a lie. So, if we were to truly believe that Nobodies do have hearts, then it'll be almost like we actually _do_ have hearts."

Letting out a sigh, the scientist does not look pleased with the latest theory. "Demyx, just because we believe in a lie, it does not automatically make the lie a part of the truth."

"But you don't know that for sure," he protests. "Who knows? It might just work. And if it does, we won't have to travel to all those worlds to turn people into Heartless sot that we can collect their hearts."

"No, it will not," Vexen's voice is biting as he cuts through the words. "As I'm sure I've said before, the best option available to us right now is to do research. By conducting experiments, we will understand better the nature of hearts, Heartless and Nobodies. It is the logical and definitely more rational thing to do, compare to the ones you've suggested."

"If you're way is so undeniably correct, why haven't you found the answer yet?" His tone is not in any way polite, and certainly not the least bit respectful, which is dangerous when the person he's speaking too is someone like Vexen; Vexen, who doesn't tolerate even Zexion questioning his methods, although the latter always seemed unbothered when the scientist launches into an angry tirade.

As expected, anger colors the scientist's sneer, a warning sign. "Experiments take time," he says coldly. "Every aspect of an experiment must be researched thoroughly before it can produce the best results. Either way, it's still the better idea."

"Belief is important to everyone, especially so to us. How," he says, trying to show the other blonde what Luxord had shown him earlier, "can we possibly expect to fully exist if we don't even believe in ourselves?"

Giving a short laugh, his chuckle is swimming with mute insults and outrageously blatant mockery. "If belief is all it takes to possess a heart again, our pitiful existences as Nobodies would have ended a long time ago. As it is, life isn't simple, and the solution is obviously something more complicated."

Demyx remains insistent, stubbornly standing by his suggestion and refusing to back down. "I still think believing is the best way to go. At some point, a strong enough faith has to result in something."

Picking up his pen, the scientist writes out a little note neatly in one corner of one of the papers in front of him. When he speaks, his words are a challenge. "Go ahead and believe, then. We'll see how far your belief will take you."

**End**

So, what did 'ya all think? Was it alright? Please let me know, okay?. Thanks for your time!


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